


Nothing Stays the Same

by Starisia



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Introspection, Killing, Past Character Death, final-arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22540483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starisia/pseuds/Starisia
Summary: Nothing stays the same.This is a fact Ja'far has become intimately familiar with in his thirty years of life.But even that knowledge, the memories of everything that taught that often painful lesson, some changes are so much harder than others.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Nothing Stays the Same

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> This was written back when Magi was still in the midst of the trainwreck that was the final arc. I was RPing Ja'far at the time and got the urge to write this to show just how my muse was handling the situation which... wasn't great. Meant to pst it back then, but realized I never did so figured I'd do that now. 
> 
> This is also another example of why I rarely write drabbles seeing as this was meant to be one... then it hit 3k words.
> 
> Hope you enjoy ^_^

The dream had started off as little more than an impossibility.

The naive, wishful thinking of a young man-one barely past the point of being called a child. Surely, no one truly believed it would come to be back in those early days when that single ship filled with misfits and outlaws set sail for Reim.

Even Ja’far hadn’t truly believed it; not back when his heart was nothing but a blacked lump, long frozen within his too-small frame. His belief in that dream hadn’t been what made him choose to join Sin-had been nearly non-existent when he first agreed with a threat turned promise that he still intended to keep should the need ever arise. Back then, Sinbad had simply been interesting to the half-fallen child; an existence so unlike any the broken youth had seen, a warm light where Ja’far had only ever known darkness’ chill.

It was alluring; calling out to him in a voice that reached to the very depths of a divided soul, stirring to life a sense of hope that had long ago been torn to shreds by the very forces that had left so many scars in their wake-but even he’d thought Sinbad’s dream was naive. Thought that human nature was too horrendous a thing; too volatile and selfish for such a bright future to come-at least within the single lifetime Sin had to accomplish such a marvelous feat.

The true hope for it, the true belief that it might be possible, had been slow to build-born from the very belief he came to hold in his chosen king and the determination he saw burn brighter and brighter within amber-hued eyes with each step that carried them closer. A belief and determination that was only fostered, fed, and nurtured as the company grew; as lands left all but untouched by any aside from the locals chose to join hands with their cause, to help work towards the ideal of that Utopian world a mere merchant presented.

They accomplished so much more than Ja'far had dared hope in so little time; the company’s name coming to be known worldwide, Sinbad’s adventures becoming a story just as famous, and his king becoming a living legend all in the span of only a few year’s time. And, despite all that had stood in their way, all of the hardships and suffering they had endured, they found their land-founded that first country off Parthevia’s coast.

The hope had never been so bright, so present, outshining even the wariness and unease that came with siding with that man.

Looking back on it now, perhaps that was their downfall; the very hope that had given rise to all that they’d accomplished. It had been too blinding, too comforting, and too easy to get caught up in; making them so much less weary of the man that had given them that land than they should have been.

But then the hope had been dashed-going up in a deafening blaze, that Ja’far could scarcely remember to this day. The first Sindria’s fall was barely a memory to him-and yet still he was haunted by the few images and sounds he could recall; flashes of fire and blood, black ruhk and corpses, glinting metal and lightning. The raging infernos and the deafening screams… The lifeless eyes and still forms of those that had grown so near-so dear to a once frozen heart…Those were the scattered flashes that crossed his mind whenever he was reminded of that bloodied time in the nation’s history.

And, of course, the ache in his chest that came in the aftermath, making itself known even after so many years when he recalled all that had been lost in just that single day.

He could remember so few details of the fall, something he was unsure he could call a blessing or a curse with how much he’d suffered regardless of that first stretch of missing time.

He’d still been forced to mourn the losses of his allies-his friends, as difficult as the word had been to speak at the time-and the woman that had adopted him; had treated him as her own despite the blood on his hands, the sins of his past self. The woman who had taken him under her wing, showed him the warmth of a mother’s love-something he had never known before in a life that had seen far too much in far too short a time.

He had mourned for her, suffered the guilt of words never said, of gratitude never given. He had mourned for Mystras, the prince that shared his household-a knight that surely embodied the Heroism Baal was meant to represent despite the naive, carefree nature that may have made others who didn’t know him think the contrary. He had mourned for Mahad and Vittel-his former underlings turned friends, that had been by him long before he had ever realized; staying there despite how wretchedly he’d mistreated them back before he’d been saved. He had mourned for the civilians, those he and the others were meant to protect.

And he had mourned for the loss of his King’s pure light.

Still to this day. he bore the guilt of not being able to live up to the title he’d been granted; to protect those that he should have defended with his life. And, though he was careful not to let any know, not being able to save his king from the black ruhk’s hold the way Sinbad had saved him back in that dungeon of ice and snow where a killer undeserving, had received a chance at redemption.

Yes, he had suffered-just as they all had… but, he’d tried to hide it.

Tried to stay strong, composed and steady for the sake of his king and comrades. He couldn’t let it show, not to them. He didn’t let the tears fall or his voice break; didn’t let the screams claw free of his throat till it was left raw, the taste of copper on the back of his tongue.

Not when they needed support-not when Sin had needed support the most. Rurumu wouldn’t have wanted him to crumble under the weight of crushing despair-this much he knew without even the faintest shadow of a doubt. She’d of wanted him to be there for those that needed it; for her other children and Hinahoho, for the master she’d taught him to serve and his other allies, those even younger than himself who had worked so hard only to see it all go up in flames…

And so he had.

Pushing all of it down the same way he’d pushed down the pain and fear of his Sham Lash days in favor of being what his allies and master needed him to be, only letting such things surface when no one else was there to see.

And eventually, through that despair, the clouds that had weighed down their once bright sky began to part; once again revealing the bright blue beyond and slowly but surely returning the hope shard by shard and at last… Sindria rose again.

It rose to the forefront of the world; the king at its head a man whose name was known around the world-a man so many looked up to, wished to be like, and Ja’far couldn’t have been more pleased-more proud to have been a part of such a journey. Their dream was alive-their dream was strong, and though everyone knew it wouldn’t be easy; that it would take time to reach, it was there. And they would do all they could to reach that bright future that Sin had envisioned, had painted before them with his words alone.

It had been years since then.

Since they were struggling just to get their nation past the point of a mere fledgling country, barely more than a joke to those outside of the alliance they’d already begun to form. Years since that struggle was no more, and adventures became less of a priority. Years since their final departure from a dungeon and they settled into the routine of maintaining the country they had built…

And, at long last, after two long decades of fighting… their dream had become a reality.

It had been so long since that day when Ja’far had left his life of an assassin behind, and yet… it was also so much sooner than he had dared hope.

At least, the world was united.

At last, peace reigned.

There was no more death caused by things so pointless as war, no more slavery that stole away the freedom and lives of people whose only crime was being born into this unfair world.

Everything was as Sin had envisioned, as Sin had promised.

But, staring down at Parthevia’s capital from the luxurious chambers he’d been granted; the lights of the city and magical tools down below appearing as though the night sky itself had fallen to earth…

Ja’far couldn’t help but wonder how it could be so bitter when it should have been so sweet.

One would think there would be a feeling of pride-or at the very least, contentment; seeing such a huge goal become a reality.

A sense of accomplishment that far outweighed everything else one could feel when staring out at a world such as this and knowing they had played a part in reaching this grand goal. In knowing that the one they held so dear had made such an impossible dream into a reality, had at last accomplished what he’d striven towards for so many years.

But, though it was there it was muted; the feeling seemingly growing duller by the day till now, when he felt it even less than a feather’s touch to his scales. Till melancholy and nostalgia overtook pride, and a selfish longing for old times drew a sigh from his lips, green hues dropping from the wall of glass to instead rest on the tiled floor beneath his feet before he turned his back on the ethereal view.

The world was at peace.

That, there was no denying.

But, to the former advisor, it was as though his world had fallen apart.

Two decades-two thirds of his life-had been spent at Sinbad’s side, devoted, wholly and without doubt to the king he had chosen all those years ago. Following in his shadow, supporting him in the background while he stood, tall and proud in the spotlight he so thrived in, and trying to keep him on a path that wouldn’t lead to a complete loss of himself.

Nearly as long had been devoted equally to Sindria; to the nation he’d watched crumble once only to grow from the ruins of its predecessor in a different land; worked himself to the bone to help it thrive in any way he could-heedless of the strain it may have put on his body.

So many years had been spent surrounded by the comfort of familiar faces he had grown to trust, grown to love, care for, and cherish more than he had once thought himself capable. So long had been spent surrounded by those he saw as his family, more so than he ever had with those he shared a blood tie.

So long had been spent in that secure state, knowing his purpose and knowing that, though he would rarely allow it, if ever the need to lean on them arose, there would be allies there to support him just as he would always support them.

But, no longer was that the case.

The family he had come to cherish so was no more-the eight generals, once a powerful force known as Sindria’s guardians now scattered to the wind like the dead leaves in autumn.

The winds of change had wasted little time in seeing to that once they were released, and before Ja'far had even realized it, those so dear to his heart had been carried off in different directions by their own destinies, to destinations he couldn’t follow. Back to their own lands, the places they were bound to by blood and duty, and taking up the titles of kings and queens, chancellors and chiefs and leaving the side of the king they had all served for so long.

Until only Drakon remained in the country they had built, and even that became of little comfort soon enough when Sin and himself were no longer there themselves.

He had never thought-not once over the years striving towards this ‘perfect’ peace-that it would involve leaving Sindria behind. That Sinbad would step down from the throne; relinquish the crown he spent so long trying to obtain to another-even one so capable and deserving. The thought had never so much as crossed his mind, the possibility not once hinted at by Sin until the choice had been made and Ja'far was asked to make his own.

As though anything like that truly existed.

Sindria had been home to them all, and for Ja'far, it had been where his heart lay long before he knew it-but it wasn’t where he belonged.

So he ‘chose’ to leave it behind along with his king; tried to bury the feelings of homesickness that had plagued him during the early days after their departure-a feeling he had scarcely known before, despite the years of travel away from the island country or the years when ‘home’ was nothing but a word to his once twisted psyche.

It was just another country now, he tried to tell himself. Another land, no longer the one he resided within though it did little to eliminate such bothersome melancholy, even as he threw himself headlong into the company’s work.

Now ‘home’ was Parthevia; the nation that held so many memories that the former assassin wished he could forget; so many memories that haunted his dreams till they became nightmares, reminding him of the scars that littered skin and heart alike. A land he had never wished to return to if there was any way to avoid it-not after joining Sin and leaving it behind, and certainly not after the first Sindria’s fall.

That, he had been certain would be the hardest part.

That, he was certain, was what would hurt the most; setting sail from the island, passing through the natural arch that separated the port from the open ocean with the knowledge that this wasn’t a temporary departure with a set date for their return. That with this, Sindria would no longer be the nation he called home-at least not for some time to come.

Looking back on it now, he couldn’t help but wish he’d been right.

But alas, he wasn’t sure how he could have been more wrong.

There had been something even more painful in fate’s agenda and even now he found his chest clenching, ribcage tightening with a sense of grief he had never anticipated.

There was only one thing that had been more precious to him than Sindria-the very thing he had left in order to remain close to. The very thing he belonged near-or, as it seemed now-the very thing he _used_ to belong near.

Sin.

The king who had saved him from his own darkness so many years ago. The man he had remained so loyal to for so long, always supporting from his place at his side, doing all in his power to serve and protect, to advise and challenge whenever the need arose, to keep on his chosen path and keep from losing sight of the things he couldn’t afford to be blind to.

But now such times were little more than a memory; a fact that had been even less expected than the departure from Sindria.

Now, there was another in the place that had once been his own. Someone else now remaining at Sinbad’s side even after Ja'far himself had been excused. Someone else serving as advisor and confidant, despite the long years since he had been granted such a title.

No longer was he the one allowed to stay, the one his king would call on to discuss even the gravest matters; the ones he would carefully keep hidden from any other-even Ja'far’s fellow generals. No longer was he one with an opinion his king sought and valued, the one who could sway Sinbad away from a course he would surely regret. No longer did he know what his king’s true aim was, what he truly desired. No longer did he have even an inkling what was going on within that recklessly ambitious mind. No longer did the bond that had been built over the course of so many years seem to hold any relevance, any value to the one who still remained so precious to the former assassin-the former advisor.

And, as much was he wanted to believe there was a reason-to grant Sin the faith that so many years of trust and camaraderie surely garnered, it didn’t stop one painful thought from repeatedly worming its way through the barriers of once impenetrable steel that surrounded his mind.

He had been cast aside.

They had once been so close-friends despite the official titles that might have made others think otherwise-but now Ja'far couldn’t help but feel it was no longer the case.

The space between them seemed so much wider than it had ever been before, even back when Ja'far’s heart had been cast into a seemingly never-ending void of pain and fear, blood and hate where all he wanted was to kill.

Nearly twenty years-two decades, two-thirds of his life-had seen what gap there was only grow narrower and narrower with each day, each trial they faced at each others’ side. Each wound they saw shift to a scar, each scar they saw fade till it was little more than a memory; something they had risen above, only to be made stronger by whatever force had left that pale line engraved in either skin or soul.

But now….In a mere three years everything had changed.

His family, his home, his purpose… Even his wires, the crimson strings that had once been a source of security despite the wounds and scars they’d left in their wake… The one thing that had remained a constant in his life even before Sin.. even they had been stripped from his arms; taken from him under the order of the International Alliance and the king he’d served.

Yes… they’d achieved their dream. They’d ushered in an era of peace, the likes of which this world had never known.

It hadn’t been easy-Ja’far had always known it wouldn’t be. Such a thing could never happen without sacrifices being made, hands being soiled.

But he’d never realized just how much he had to lose-or that reaching this point would mean saying goodbye to it all. 


End file.
